An Escape
by Cookies and Ink
Summary: Hounded by the press, Harry decides to go somewhere no one would think to look. Battlefields always did make things simpler.


**A/N:** Written for **Round Two** of the 'QLFC'. I am Beater 1 of the Montrose Magpies. Thank you to my incredible teammates for helping me beta this. Prompts are listed at the bottom of the fic to not give anything away.

* * *

 **An Escape**

The crack of Apparation broke the silence, startling a group of magpies into flight. Harry watched them shoot up into the sky in panic as he tried to remember the rhyme.

 _One for sorrow, two for joy. Three for a girl and four for a boy…_

He couldn't remember any more than that. The black and white bodies were too far away to properly count now, merging into a mass of feathers and omens. Still, it felt fitting that they were here of all places en masse. Opportunistic birds that fed on carrion and took whatever shiny object captured their fancy.

They were just like the press Harry found himself constantly trying to escape. Their hounding had become relentless now that he was back in the country — desperate for his take on the current political climate, whether he was aware of the current rumour or salacious gossip, whether he was dating anyone…

Was he dating anyone?

Amongst the flurries of questions regarding what he was going to do for his career and whether he had come back to work for the Ministry like so many assumed, Harry had been so peppered with demands for clues as to his love life that finally, after being cornered in Diagon Alley, he had Disapparated away to the first place he'd thought of where no one would be able to find him.

Yet another anniversary commemorating the final battle of the War was approaching, so Hogwarts had been out of the question. Not just that, but it was as though the past had a presence over the castle at this time of year. It was palpable, and when Harry visited for the remembrance ceremonies, he could feel it creep over his skin until he was seventeen again.

It was a warm day in April, a bank holiday weekend, so anywhere mildly Muggle had been out of the question too. Harry hadn't let himself over-think it. Now that he was here, however, in the silence of the graveyard at Little Hangleton, Harry was not sure he had made the best decision.

If the past was an issue at Hogwarts, here it was suffocating.

Harry stood perfectly still in, by some sick twist of irony, exactly the same spot he had been unwillingly brought to by Portkey all those years ago. His shadow stretched out in the mid-afternoon sun, stopping just by a black spellmark surrounded by overgrown grass and weeds. That was where Cedric had fallen.

Moving slowly, Harry retraced his steps, his hand reaching out to trail along crumbling effigies and tombstones in a futile attempt to ground himself. No one would find him here; barely anyone else knew that this was where it had all begun. Harry entertained the thought of losing himself in the memories, the overwhelming pain that by now he was so familiar with. Old dogs of war could not learn new tricks, it seemed.

A huge swathe of grass had been burnt beyond recognition where he and Riddle had locked wands for the first time. The contrast with the unkempt green and wildflowers that sprung up at the border, nature trying to force its way through, was jarring. He sank down, positioning himself so the gravestone of Tom Riddle Senior was out of his eyeline, trying to focus on breathing instead of the countless frantic thoughts and panic that had led to him to Apparate away with the impulsivity he was known for.

The sun moved languidly across the sky, the shadows around him lengthening as Harry focussed on finding peace in the silence . A quiet, dark voice in the back of his mind kept reminding Harry that it was right in the worst sort of way, how he found comfort on old battlefields. Things should not make more sense here — and yet they did. Everything started to feel simpler. What did rumours of thrown-away career choices or his love life matter in the scheme of things?

The magpies had returned, roosting in crevices under weatherworn angel wings when a second crack of Apparation sent them all skyward yet again. Harry was rolling up to his feet, a shield cast wandlessly, his wand drawn in preparation for something more offensive when Ron slowly raised his hands up in surrender, scuffing his toe on the floor.

"Do you have any idea how bloody hard it is to find you when you don't want to be found?"

 _Mr Potter! Mr Potter, are you dating anyone?_

"I just needed some space," Harry muttered, flicking his wand to dispel the shield. Ron didn't say anything as Harry sank back down to the ground; he just came over and dropped to sit cross legged next to him.

"Fair enough," Ron murmured, and then he gingerly picked up one of the many daisy chains strewn on the floor around them.

"A girl taught me in primary school, and I wanted to do something while I tried to get my head straight," Harry admitted, answering Ron's unspoken question.

Ron was clearly trying not to smile as he solemnly placed a long chain in his hair. "Do I look pretty now?"

Harry retorted by shoving him hard. Ron gave a squawk of protest, hands going up to his hair to stop the flowers from falling.

"We're trying to keep a low profile. Act less…"

"Gay?" Ron suggested, giving Harry a long look. "Actually, I don't want to add to our culture of bi-erasure, so I take that back. I'll try and not act so —"

"Ron. Shut up." Harry sighed. "Or at least try harder since you're so determined to make me laugh or react or whatever."

Ron exhaled slowly. Their bodies were so close together that as he leant back and propped himself up on his elbows, his arm brushed against Harry's side. He stayed quiet for so long that Harry was almost tempted to say something, but then Ron finally broke the silence.

"Hannah saw you get cornered when she was doing some errands for the Leaky. She Flooed us immediately, but this was the fifth place I tried. I thought you might've gone to see the Thestrals or to the cave where we used to meet Sirius, then I thought about the Dursleys… My worst fear was that you were going to make me practice my Parseltongue again."

Harry hissed a sentence at him and Ron's brow furrowed.

"Yeah, mate, I've no idea what that means. That sounds like nothing you've said before."

"It was just some choice words that would make your Mum whack me with a wooden spoon and then some… No, I'm not teaching you how to swear in Parseltongue!" Harry said hurriedly, watching Ron's eyes light up.

"I'll just learn myself. It's easy enough to mimic," Ron said with such an air of confidence that Harry snorted.

"But you found me, in the end."

"I always do."

Harry picked another few daisies as Ron glanced around and then froze, his eyes on the space where everything had changed.

"Is that…?"

"Where the whole Priori Incantatem thing happened, yeah."

"When you say it like that, it doesn't really have the same sort of power behind it," Ron remarked. Harry just shrugged, not willing to go into it in too much depth.

"I just don't want to lie anymore!" Harry said finally after yet more extended silence. The words tumbled from his mouth, hot and angry. "It's none of their business what I do with my life; they all just need to get over their age-old obsession and move on! I just want to be left alone."

Ron shifted and put his arm around Harry's shoulders, holding him closer.

"I know."

"Not just that, but coming back to England is like going back in time . Everyone's conservative and old-fashioned; everyone wants something… well, not everyone, but it feels like too many people are just out for themselves."

"I know."

"Do you?" Harry twisted to face his partner. That's what they always had been since that first train ride facing off to Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle; by each other's side.

"Yeah. I do. It's bollocks," Ron said simply. "I think we should come out and then go travelling again; just ignore everyone. We don't owe the press anything, and Hermione is dying to put some curses into the wards around the house… It's a win-win, really. Well, not for the poor blokes that get cursed."

Harry blinked at him. What they had had developed slowly, organically, over a trip with Hermione to Australia and then to visit Charlie, finally with three years travelling the world. It felt so easy and made so much sense that it continued to scare him. Hermione had let them live with her when they'd returned to the UK, glad for the company and she was, as Ron had just brought up, so fully prepared to face the media and society's homophobia face on that it was a little terrifying.

"If you're worried about my family," Ron began, but Harry shook his head.

"I think most of them already know. George said that he thought we'd been going out in school… No, as mental as it sounds, I think your family care for me, just a bit."

"Just a bit," Ron echoed with a fond smile.

"So we'll just… do that, then…" Harry said faintly.

"We should decide on where to go first. I was thinking about that trip I went on to Egypt. I reckon you'd love it; there were these huge —"

Harry let Ron ramble on as he stared at the graveyard that surrounded them. It was a macabre place to have this discussion, but in a way, it felt right. Things made more sense on the battlefield, and that was where Ron and he were likely headed. It might not be a battlefield like Harry preferred — printed words and salacious articles seemed to plague him much longer than any spells which made their mark — but they would survive.

They always did.

"I love you." Harry said as Ron helped him to his feet. "You've still got daisy chains in your hair."

"Good. They're cute."

"You're cute," Harry mumbled and then laughed as Ron's ears flushed red.

"Just imagine I'm swearing at you in Parseltongue right now," he muttered, pulling Harry close. "Let's go home."

There was an explosion of black and white as the magpies took to the air again on the third disruptive crack of the day. After a moment, they settled back down, cawing to the thin air where the two young men had held each other.

* * *

 **A/N** : Prompts used were **past** (word) and **shadow** (word).


End file.
